82.
And learne ye princes by my wronged sprite,
Not to misconster what is ment aright,
The whinged wordes too oft preuent the wyt,
When silence cesseth afore the lips to sit:
Alas, what may the wordes yeld worthy death?
The wordes worst is, the speaker’s stinking breath:
Wordes are but winde, why cost they then so much
The guiltye kycke, when they to smartly touche.
83.